


No Lies Between Me And You

by northern



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Remix, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-22
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northern/pseuds/northern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon goes missing on the last night of tour, in Atlanta, Georgia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Lies Between Me And You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chalcopyrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalcopyrite/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Georgia On My Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3009) by chalcopyrite. 



> The consent issues take place off screen and have to do with vampire mind control.
> 
> Title from Chicane's No Ordinary Morning. Huge thanks to my betas - Lalejandra and Silveryscrape. Without them, this story would be much, much crappier.

Brendon goes missing on the last night of tour, in Atlanta, Georgia.

Spencer has taken his shower after the show and is getting dressed when Zack comes in. "Have you seen Brendon?" he asks. "He let the battery on his phone run out again, and he's not even carrying it with him — I'm going to fucking kill him."

Spencer pulls his shirt on. "He's not on the bus?" he asks, puzzled. "I thought he was going to sleep."

"I checked the bus, which is where I found his phone," Zack says. "I also checked half the venue, and outside. He didn't say anything to you?"

"That he was going to go sleep," Spencer replies slowly. "He was sick."

Spencer's really good at thinking up worst-case scenarios, and right now the image of Brendon lying somewhere with a broken leg and missing his phone is warring with the image of Brendon unconscious, locked in a windowless van on its way out of the city. But there's no way anything like that has happened for real. It's just the way his brain works.

But Brendon doesn't turn up.

Zack gets people organized into groups searching the entire venue and the area around it while Spencer walks the corridors back and forth, opening each door at least three times, even the tiny closets.

Spencer calls the police, but the police don't seem to care, since it hasn't even been a few hours. They tell Spencer to call friends and acquaintances, when Spencer _knows_ that Brendon would never just take off, that he was tired and sick and needed to sleep. The police tell Spencer to take a chill pill. What the cop he talks to actually says is, "I know you're upset and worried, but in the overwhelming majority of these cases, the missing person comes back within a day," but Spencer knows that's what the cop means.

The next day is spent calling everyone Brendon knows to see if he's checked in with them. Spencer even calls Mrs Urie, who is horribly upset, maybe even more so than Spencer, but she promises to call everyone in the family and get back to him. They keep their hotel rooms and make arrangements to let everyone else get home but keep their bus in the hotel's garage. Spencer gets really tired of asking people not to say anything online in case Brendon turns up safe and unhurt. He also gets tired of the way his hands shake, holding the phone, but there's nothing he can do about either of those things. All he can do is keep calling, and in between the calls he walks around the venue, in larger and larger circles.

He doesn't sleep.

Dallon keeps him company, handing him coffee now and then and checking Spencer's email account twice an hour for him. The only thing Dallon tells him about is the message from Ian, who apologizes for going home. Dallon asks him if he wants to send a reply to that, but Spencer doesn't have time for people who aren't right there. Maybe that's uncharitable, or unfriendly, but Ian left when Brendon is missing, and Spencer doesn't really want to talk to him right now.

After thirty-eight hours, Spencer gets a call from an employee at the venue. Brendon is sitting on a barricade outside the side entrance when they get there. He looks rumpled and pale and his clothes are dirty, but he doesn't protest when Spencer traps him in a hug, lifting him off the ground for a few seconds, so he must not be badly hurt.

Zack isn't far behind Spencer. "Where the fuck have you _been_?" he demands.

Spencer is so relieved to finally have a living, breathing Brendon back that he feels almost weak with it. Zack seems to be trying to get his own hug, but he's going to have to wait a while, because Spencer has trouble letting Brendon go.

"And why didn't you have your phone, fuckhead?" Zack says. "We couldn't _find_ you. Are you okay?"

Brendon almost hangs in Spencer's arms, but he grows more tense after a while and smiles shakily at Spencer when Spencer finally let's him go. "I'm... okay," he says. "I must have left my phone on the bus. It's probably out of juice."

Spencer is not convinced about Brendon being okay, but there are priorities.

 

***

 

"I don't remember," Brendon tells them.

"What, nothing?" Zack asks disbelievingly.

"I was on my way to the bus, and then..." Brendon pauses. "I was sitting on the ground a few blocks away. I saw the roof of the venue, so I came back there."

"So there's no people, no one we can have arrested?" Spencer asks. That seems profoundly wrong. He wants someone in jail for this.

"I don't remember," Brendon repeats and looks down at the ground.

Zack shuts them in the hotel room they got for Brendon with instructions not to go anywhere. He actually holds his finger up, school teacher style, as he does it, phone in his other hand. He's going to start calling everyone back, informing them that Brendon has been found.

Inside, Brendon immediately throws most of his clothes on the floor. "If it's been two days, I want a shower," he says and shuts himself in the bathroom.

Dallon slowly picks Brendon's discarded clothes up from the floor and puts them on a chair. Spencer is left looking through Brendon's luggage for clothes. Neither of them say anything.

Spencer finds some gray sweats that don't seem dirty, and he lays them out on the bed. Then he sits down and listens to the running water. Spencer has the irrational urge to go open the bathroom door, so that he'll know that Brendon's okay in there. Dallon stands by the window, looking out. For some reason, it seems best to stay silent.

Spencer draws a relieved breath when Brendon comes out of the bathroom again. He must have used really hot water for his shower, because Spencer can feel some of the heat leaking out into the room.

Brendon dresses in the sweats with no comment. Usually, Spencer tries not to look too closely when Brendon is naked, but right now he's grateful for the opportunity to check for wounds or bruises with his own eyes. He doesn't see any discolored skin, but that doesn't mean much.

"Maybe... we should go to a hospital," Spencer suggests.

Brendon wraps himself in the blanket that was on the foot of the bed, on top of the sweats. Spencer wonders if he's cold still after his shower, or in shock, or what. Spencer has no idea what to do with people in shock. He's pretty sure blankets are good.

"They could check you for DNA and stuff. And you could have injuries," Spencer continues. He feels nervous about this whole thing. Brendon isn't acting like all he needs is some sleep. There's something else. But he doesn't really want to come out and accuse Brendon of hiding things in front of Dallon.

Brendon looks at him like he's stupid. "I just took a really long shower," he says. "There wouldn't be anything. And I don't need any fucking DNA tests, I'm okay, I'm not hurt, I'm fine," Brendon says. He's said that several times over the last hour or so.

"But they might be able to find some clue," Dallon objects.

That sounds silly, like a story, but Spencer kind of agrees. He'd love for Brendon to go to the hospital. Or to the police, at least. Not that the police had been any more interested when Zack had called them back and reported that Brendon had been found. Maybe they should have contacted the FBI instead, gotten some _Criminal Minds_ action — if that's even how real FBI agents work.

"There's nothing wrong with me," Brendon says, not even looking at them. He's rooting around in the fridge in the hotel room, although what he thinks he'll find in there that's edible Spencer doesn't know.

"I can order something up," Spencer says, wanting to do _something_ if he can't get Brendon to go get checked up. Brendon hasn't even been seriously sick in years, much less disappeared for two days, and it grates on Spencer's sense of what's acceptable. "Ribs, or a burger or something?"

Brendon stands up, his blanket sliding down to his hips. He tugs it back up again, wrapping it tighter around himself.

"I..." Brendon looks at Spencer for a moment, his face strangely empty of expression. Then he turns away. "No. No, I don't want... no food."

Spencer smiles uneasily. This is stupid. Brendon always eats. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?" What if there's something really wrong with Brendon? He'd been so tired and sick at that last show, and now, with Brendon not remembering... Spencer should insist on a hospital. He could get Zack to help him haul Brendon there against his will, if necessary.

Brendon opens the fridge again and pulls out a soda, one of those tiny cans they have in hotels like this. He holds it up to show Spencer and Dallon. "I'm not hungry," he says, "but I'll drink this. I'll eat later. Okay?"

Brendon looks so hopeful that Spencer gives in. He doesn't have to eat right this moment, after all. He's probably eaten something while he was gone. Although that reminds Spencer of something.

"Are you sure you don't remember anything?" he asks.

Brendon takes the soda with him to the bed and curls up on it. He glares at Spencer. "I said, didn't I?" he snaps. "I'm fine." He opens the can and takes a sip. Spencer can see him making a face at it. Maybe the soda is flat.

"I guess, maybe... you could get some sleep?" Dallon suggests.

Spencer looks at Dallon. Dallon looks about as confused and helpless as Spencer feels. It's uncomfortable, both to see and to feel. Spencer nods slowly.

"Yeah, maybe something will come back in the morning," he says. "You should sleep, Brendon."

"I will. Sure," Brendon says.

Spencer doesn't think that sounds like Brendon is planning on going to sleep right now, but Dallon's idea is the best he's heard so far. If Brendon sleeps, he might feel better, and act more like himself. Or he might be more inclined to go to the hospital if he has bad dreams or whatever amnesiac people who have been missing usually do.

"I'll stay with you," Spencer says, decisively.

"You don't have to do that," Brendon protests, "I'm fine."

"You've said that, what, twenty times now?" Spencer says. "Well maybe _I'm_ not fine. Maybe I need some reassurance after my only remaining band member went missing for two days?"

"Oh," Brendon says, glancing at Dallon and back to Spencer again, but he doesn't protest again.

 

***

 

Spencer wakes up knowing that something is wrong. He turns his head to see in the barely-there light that Brendon isn't in the other bed. Spencer's heart races as he pulls on his pants. He almost forgets his phone, but turns in the doorway and grabs it off the nightstand. Brendon can't have gotten far, but Spencer is _never_ going anywhere without his phone again.

As he rushes down the two flights of stairs of the night-empty hotel, he thinks he should have felt the sheets, to see if they were still warm. He doesn't know if that works outside of detective stories, but maybe it would have?

Brendon could be on his way anywhere right now. To Mexico. Spencer should have known there was something wrong.

Spencer is lucky, even though he has no plan after 'rush outside and into the nearest alley.' Brendon is in the alley leading to the hotel's parking garage, talking to some girl, standing close to her. What the fuck?

Spencer runs right up to them, stopping abruptly next to Brendon, skidding a little on the pavement. He doesn't care if it makes him look weird.

Brendon turns his head and gives Spencer a strange look, like Spencer is not entitled to wonder why Brendon is out here, instead of in bed.

"Oh, hey, Spencer, too!" the fan exclaims happily, bouncing on her feet a little. She looks like she's eighteen. Maybe. "I'm _really_ looking forward to the album, you guys."

This makes no sense. Brendon left his room to... chat up a fan in a parking garage? A less than well lit garage, with no one else in it, not even an attendant. If he didn't know Brendon, he'd suspect him of planning something stupid. It doesn't make any sense, because it's been at least a couple of years since Brendon showed any interest in hitting on their fans — at least in front of Spencer.

Back when Brendon's parents politely asked him to remove himself from their house unless he agreed to quit the band and stop looking at naked guys on the Internet, Brendon had gone through a period of doing some pretty stupid things, almost failing several classes and losing his job at The Smoothie Hut as a result. At the time, Spencer had thought Brendon was just enjoying his new freedom, but looking back, Spencer supposes this could be something of the same — something to distract Brendon from whatever shitty thing is going on. Spencer just doesn't understand why he'd pick some teenage girl for that. Or why he'd sneak out in the middle of the night for it.

Brendon doesn't look too happy to see him. "Spencer, hi."

Spencer thinks Brendon's accompanying grimace and hand wave are meant to make Spencer go away, but if Brendon imagines Spencer is actually going to leave him here and go back to the hotel he's crazy.

Maybe they're staring at each other too long without saying anything, because the girl loses some of her exuberance. "Is this a bad time?" she asks.

"Not at all," Brendon says, smiling a big smile. "Spencer was just leaving, anyway."

"Uh, no?" Spencer says, incredulously. "It's..." He checks his phone. "...two thirty in the morning." His heart isn't racing quite that badly anymore, now that he's found Brendon, but he's getting pretty angry.

"So go sleep!" Brendon suggests cheerfully, stepping even closer to the girl.

Spencer gives up and turns to the fan instead. "We really should get some sleep, I'm sure you understand. Long day tomorrow."

"Oh." She looks disappointed, but not unreasonable, and backs away. "Sure, no, okay. I understand. It was great to meet you both, though!"

Brendon finally stops trying and turns his back instead, kicking at the ground like a sulky child as the girl walks away, back to the well lit street.

They walk back around the block to the hotel instead of back through the dark garage, and it's uncomfortable. Brendon won't talk, and Spencer seethes in silence. The further they walk in silence, the more upset Spencer gets over the fact that Brendon hasn't apologized yet. It takes almost until they're at the hotel doors before Spencer breaks.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he demands. "And don't tell me you're fine, since you are obviously not fine. What were you doing with that girl?"

"Seriously?" Brendon says, his face twisted up. "I don't know if you missed this, but you're not my mother."

That hurts. "Maybe I should _call_ your mother," Spencer says. It's a cheap dig, but so was Brendon's, so he's fucking allowed. "I could tell her all about her boy luring teenagers into dark alleys."

Brendon stares at him. "Luring? Who the fuck says that? And fuck you, teenagers!" He stops by the wall. Every line of his body looks tense. "I don't need a babysitter. I have a right to go wherever I want and do whatever I want. And if I want to spend time with a girl who is _over eighteen_ , there is nothing wrong with that!"

"There is when you've been gone for two days and _don't fucking remember what happened_!" Spencer shouts, smacking his hand against the wall. "Doesn't it even matter to you that there's only the two of us left? I don't know how I'm going to play with you in this band if you don't trust me."

Brendon stares at him, and at first it seems like he's going to say something, but then he stops himself, turns and walks a few steps away, his hands in his pockets, shoulders held high.

"Brendon," Spencer says softly to his back, although he feels sick to his stomach with Brendon's refusal to answer him. "We'll be home soon. I don't know why you won't fucking talk to me, but maybe you could go see someone, just a couple times. Do you think that would help?"

Brendon doesn't reply. He's looking away, to the end of the street where some drunk people are turning a corner, laughing and stumbling.

"Brendon?"

Brendon sighs. He walks past Spencer without looking at him, to the doors of the hotel just a few steps away. "Sorry, I just need some sleep," he mumbles, just loud enough for Spencer to hear him.

 

***

 

Zack booked them a flight, so Zack gets the three of them a car to the airport late in the morning, since Dallon isn't going their way. Brendon seems subdued to Spencer — pale and huddled in his hoodie, squinting in the pale sunlight. It breaks Spencer's heart not to be able to offer physical comfort, but the one time he'd tried putting his arms around Brendon, before they'd gone down to breakfast, Brendon had turned stiff and awkward, twisting away.

Brendon won't eat breakfast, even though Spencer makes sure to point out the fucking excellent French toast. It feels like continued rejection.

They get held up in security because of some bullshit thing with those X-ray cameras, where the employees pull Brendon aside to check he hasn't hidden anything illegal in his mouth. Spencer can't see exactly what goes on, but when Brendon comes out again after several minutes, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

"You okay?" Zack asks him.

"Yeah," Brendon says, visibly pulling himself back together. "I just wasn't expecting. But I guess... It's not important."

"Fucking airport security, gets worse every year," Spencer spits. Then he sees the employee standing just close enough to hear him and glances at Zack to make sure he didn't say anything stupid. Zack is frowning, but not at Spencer, so it must be okay. "Let's go," he says. "We can get some decent coffee before the plane."

Spencer and Brendon have overpriced coffee and Zack gets a beer. Spencer tries to refrain from suggesting a muffin for Brendon, but apparently even the way he stands and looks at the cake display is enough, because Brendon glares at him and quickly moves ahead in the line.

Brendon calls his mom while they wait for boarding, and Spencer eavesdrops, but Brendon doesn't tell her anything but what he told Spencer: that he's not sure what happened but that he's fine. Spencer does feel better when Brendon says, "But don't worry, Mom — come on, Spencer is here!" except it also annoys him, because it's not like Brendon is really letting Spencer take care of him.

Brendon and Spencer have seats next to each other on the plane, and Zack is right across the aisle, next to some kids and their grandma. At this point Spencer would rather share with Zack, things have gotten so weird. Brendon won't really talk to him, and Spencer can't stop himself from asking things like, "Are you _sure_ you can't remember?" and, "Why don't you want lunch?" He knows this is majorly unproductive of him, but he can't seem to help it. Zack keeps glancing over and catching Spencer's eye, giving him unhappy frowns and warning slants of his mouth.

Spencer's relieved when Brendon falls asleep in his seat. Anything is better than the cold tone anything spoken between them has taken on.

Spencer doesn't feel much like talking to Zack, even if it could be easily accomplished over the airplane droning and across the aisle, so he tries to do some of the Sudoku puzzles he always brings for any kind of travel time. His thinking seems too scattered, and all the puzzles do is make him shift in his seat and sigh.

After half an hour or so, Brendon lists toward Spencer and his head impacts gently with Spencer's shoulder. Spencer looks down at Brendon's pale face and for no reason at all, he's reminded of those few months when Brendon was seventeen and lived by himself in a shitty one room apartment. Brendon had been tired all the time, then.

Spencer's crush on Brendon had been intensely painful that year. The only thing carrying him through watching Brendon go home with guys had been Ryan's frequent reassurances that it would get better, that he'd get over it.

He never really has gotten over it, but these days he mostly knows how to hide it better when Brendon force-cuddles him. It makes Spencer embarrassed enough to wince inwardly when he thinks about it now, how obvious he must have been back then.

At least Brendon still wants to touch him when he's asleep.

Spencer sighs and puts the Sudoku away. It's great that Brendon is sleeping. He probably needs it more than Spencer, and Spencer definitely hasn't caught up on his sleep yet.

Brendon makes a vaguely discontented noise and burrows closer, pressing his face into Spencer's neck. Spencer's neck is sensitive, so he almost pulls away, but he reminds himself that Brendon needs his sleep and stays, goosebumps rising from the way Brendon's lips brush against his skin.

Spencer glances over the aisle at Zack without turning his head, but Zack has put his head phones on and is leafing through the complimentary magazine.

Brendon always runs hot. It's insufferable having to sit pressed against him for longer than a few minutes — Spencer has long experience of this from cramped travel in vans and overloaded buses — but today he's not as warm. Spencer carefully places his hand on Brendon's brow and yeah, Brendon is more clammy than warm. He must still be sick on top of everything. That‘s probably why he's not eating. Spencer resolves to sit on Brendon and make him drink as much liquid as he can when they get home.

Brendon smacks his lips, making Spencer jump in his seat slightly. Then he somehow gets even closer, snuffles into Spencer's neck and then _drags his tongue_ over Spencer's skin.

In other circumstances this might be enjoyable (although completely unlikely to occur), but there are limits to how well Brendon is allowed to sleep. Spencer leans away and gently shoves Brendon over back toward the window. Brendon freezes for a moment, which means he woke up from that, and then he twists his whole body away until no part of him is touching Spencer anymore.

Spencer stares at the back of the seat in front of him for a few minutes before he unpacks his Sudoku again.

***

As they wait for the transporter band with their luggage to start running, Spencer walks a few steps away, around a partition wall. Zack looks at him, but doesn't stop him. Spencer is grateful. He needs to talk to someone.

He goes back and forth over it in his head for a second, but then he presses the speed dial code for Ryan's phone, half expecting voice mail to pick up. The last he'd heard from Ryan, he was somewhere in Europe. Spencer never learned by heart the time difference to over there, so it's probably the middle of the night.

Ryan answers. "Spence?"

"Oh, hi," Spencer says. "I thought maybe you were asleep."

"No, we're getting ready to go out," Ryan says. "Brendon's okay, right? I heard he came back yesterday."

Spencer swallows. "He's okay... I guess. Actually —" Spencer looks around him, but there's no one close by. "Brendon's not okay. He says he is, but he's acting fucking weird. I had to go outside to get him in the middle of the night last night, because he snuck out. I had no idea where he was, and then I find him and he's hitting on some teenage girl."

"Really? Brendon?" Ryan says, disbelieving.

"I know!" Spencer walks the few steps back to the edge of the wall and looks over to where Zack and Brendon are waiting for their bags. Brendon is signing an autograph for some guy, but he still looks tired. He's barely smiling. Zack looks up and frowns, making a 'get back here' gesture. Spencer spreads his fingers in a 'five minutes.'

"It's just — he won't talk to me. I asked what the fuck he was doing, but he won't say, and today he doesn't even want to touch me. I don't know what to do."

"Uh, that sounds... hang on..."

Spencer runs his hand through his hair and listens to a few exchanges of words made blurred and incomprehensible by the airport noise around him and what is probably Ryan's hand over the phone on his side.

"So just asking what the fuck's wrong doesn't do it?" Ryan sounds stressed, like whoever he was talking to wants him to do something. "I thought you guys were BFFs now."

Spencer sighs explosively and does not comment. "Uh, no. I've definitely asked, but it's like he's decided I'm the root of all evil or something. And he won't eat anything — anything at all."

"Oh, come on, you're not his mom," Ryan says. "Listen to yourself!"

"You're not here," Spencer protests. "You're not seeing what I see!"

Ryan's quiet for a moment, and Spencer thinks about what he just said. It could possibly be alluding to what they're still not talking about. He hopes Ryan won't take it like that.

"Look, I forget to eat sometimes," Ryan points out. "And sometimes you don't eat for a day. I'm just saying."

"But it's not you, and it's not me," Spencer says, exasperated, but relieved Ryan didn't hang up on him. "It's Brendon. Sometimes he eats two dinners!"

"Maybe he's become a vampire," Ryan says and laughs. "But seriously, if they checked him out at the hospital and he seemed okay, you should just let him be," Ryan says. "Maybe he just needs some space."

"He doesn't want to _go_ to the hospital," Spencer says. "And there's a lot of time he doesn't remember. It's just — I'm worried. That's a big hole in his memory."

"Give him some time," Ryan says. "He's an adult, even if he's Brendon, and if that's how he wants to deal with it, he can. You can bring out the emotional blackmailing later, if it keeps being a problem. I know you're good at that."

From anyone else, that would sound hostile and bitter, but it's Ryan, so it's not. Zack drives the luggage cart around the corner and looks at Spencer, eyebrows raised.

"Okay, I have to go now," Spencer says, because he doesn't want to keep talking about Brendon while riding in a car with Brendon. He presses end and puts the phone back in his pocket.

 

***

 

Brendon makes noises about going out when they get back, but Spencer has spent most of the car ride home planning his attack. Ryan isn't here. He doesn't see what Brendon needs.

"We're not even unpacking. We're spending the night on the couch, with Netflix."

"What, no," Brendon says. "I need to go out."

Who he thinks he's fooling looking like that, even paler now and hunched in on himself, Spencer doesn't know. Brendon never does this, never just plain denies that's he's sick, and it's making Spencer want to hit something in frustration. He's going to make Brendon take care of himself even if it's the last thing he does. "I'll order dinner, and you need to drink your body weight in Kool-Aid or something."

Brendon drops the bag he's holding. "Not tonight," he says. "I just need one fucking night by myself. I can spend tomorrow night on the couch, but tonight... I really need tonight."

"You don't need to go anywhere." Spencer stands his ground, even though Brendon does have a point. But this whole thing is fucking with Spencer's sense of how things are supposed to be, and he can't stop now. "You're sick. I don't want to have to drag you to the hospital with pneumonia or whatever on top of everything. You can stay home, just one night. It'll help."

Brendon looks at Spencer like he's sad, like there's something Spencer just doesn't understand. Spencer stares right back. Finally Brendon folds, closing his eyes and turning his face away.

"Okay," he says quietly. "Okay, just for tonight."

Spencer sets them up with Chinese, beer and Kool-Aid and cues up episode one of _Spartacus_. Brendon sips on his drink and stares at the TV screen, wedged into a corner of the couch. He doesn't eat any of the take out and even looks nauseated when Spencer puts a box on his lap, but Spencer reasons that Kool-Aid has plenty of sugar, at least.

"We can cuddle, if you want," Spencer offers.

Brendon loves cuddling, always has. It used to be hard for Spencer when Brendon would insert himself into Spencer's space, sometimes even when he was sleeping. Spencer had slept on the mattress on Brendon's floor a few times, and Spencer would more often than not wake up with Brendon wrapped around him, breathing into his hair. Spencer has learned to deal with it now, though. He can let himself enjoy it when Brendon lies down practically on top of him.

He's just not sure that Brendon will take his offer today.

Brendon looks at him with something like fear in his eyes. Then he shakes his head and turns back to the TV.

Spencer just wishes he knew what he could do to make things better between them.

Somewhere in the middle of the third episode Brendon twists in his seat, making a whimpering noise, like he's in pain. Spencer looks at him worriedly.

"I just want to go sleep," Brendon says.

Spencer only finishes watching the episode before he turns the TV off. He can't stop thinking about Brendon — the hollow, tired look in his eyes.

He stands for a few minutes outside Brendon's closed bedroom door, trying to find a reason to open it, to check on him. But if Brendon's asleep, Spencer doesn't want to wake him up. Finally he hears pained-sounding noises from behind the door, and feels justified enough.

He opens the door carefully, just in case Brendon is asleep after all and is making noise in his sleep. It's happened before — Brendon talks in his sleep sometimes.

Brendon isn't asleep. He's lying on his side, back curled and knees bent near the edge of his bed. He's facing Spencer, and Spencer can see the glint of his open eyes in the faint light from the hallway. Brendon makes another whimper, his body twitching in on itself in some kind of spasm, and that's when Spencer realizes that Brendon hasn't yet noticed he's in the room. Also that things are more serious than he'd thought.

"Brendon," Spencer says, bending over the bed, "Brendon, what's wrong? Should I call an ambulance?" He feels Brendon's forehead, which is still cool and clammy, but somehow Spencer doesn't think that means Brendon isn't seriously sick. You don't need to be running a fever to be sick.

"No!" Brendon grabs on to Spencer's arm, his grip stronger than Spencer expected. He stares up at Spencer, looking a little more desperate than Spencer thinks what he said warranted, eyes huge and dark. "I can't go to the hospital, I'm just... " But he doesn't say any more than that.

Spencer pries Brendon's fingers away from his arm and wow, that's going to leave a bruise. Possibly Spencer is going to have to call for an ambulance whether Brendon wants him to or not. He sits down on the bed, in the space next to Brendon's knees. Brendon makes another pained little noise, and Spencer sees by the tension of Brendon's jawline that it would be louder if Spencer couldn't hear him. That Brendon wishes he hadn't made a noise at all.

"Please, Brendon," Spencer says. "I don't want to, but if you won't tell me what's wrong... I promise, whatever it is, you can tell me. We'll work it out together, but I can't help if you won't let me, so please. Just tell me."

Brendon's eyes are bright with moisture and he looks close to panic as he clamps his teeth together, all of him tense and shaking against Spencer. He swallows and blinks, then swallows again.

"Spence, I'm," he starts.

Spencer leans forward, looking anxiously into Brendon's face. Brendon screws his eyes shut and his lips twist into a grimace as he leans his face away from Spencer. Spencer waits.

"I'm so hungry," Brendon whispers finally, almost inaudible.

"What?" Spencer puts his hand on Brendon's cheek, gently trying to turn his face back toward Spencer.

Brendon shouts and smacks his hand away — hard. "I'm hungry! Don't _do_ that!"

Spencer cradles his wrist in his other hand. Brendon has twisted away from him as much as he can on the bed, but Spencer can still feel the way his body is trembling through Brendon's legs, which are still pressed against him. His breaths are more like painful-sounding sobs.

This is all wrong. Brendon is hungry, but he won't eat. Brendon is in actual _pain_ from not eating. It seems worse when Spencer is close to him. Looking at Brendon lying there, shaking and pale, so very pale, makes puzzle pieces start shifting in Spencer's brain. What Ryan had said — a joke, but... And Pete Wentz's stupid video... It's all making him think about _things_ , things that aren't even real.

Making no sudden movements, Spencer carefully stands up and backs away a couple of steps. He swallows and wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants. "Brendon, when you say you're hungry, what is it that you're hungry for?" he asks, hoping that Brendon will answer 'cheeseburgers' or fucking 'lollipops' and prove him wrong, prove that Spencer's mind is just making stupid shit up and then Spencer can just go and call that ambulance, and they will _fix_ whatever is wrong with Brendon.

Brendon makes a drawn out whining sound and curls himself up smaller, facing the wall. Then he quiets. "I can't go to the hospital, Spencer," he says after a few moments, his voice sounding almost normal again, controlled. "They'd, I don't think that would be a good idea anymore. Ever. I..." He turns back around, slowly. He looks like he's crying, or almost. "I didn't think it would be this bad," he says.

Spencer finds himself unable to look away from Brendon's mouth. "Show me," he says. "I need to see." If he doesn't, it's not going to be real for him — he knows that about himself.

Brendon looks at him silently for a moment. Then he opens his mouth, pulling his lips to the sides in something that is absolutely not a grin. His teeth are smaller than they were in the Fall Out Boy video, which Spencer... wouldn't have expected. They're still noticeable, though, so Brendon must have some way of concealing them. Spencer doesn't think he would normally overlook something so obviously made for hunting, or killing.

"Fuck," Spencer says, reality catching up with him.

Brendon closes his mouth again, and makes another of those whimpering noises. It sounds awful.

"Fuck, you need... What do you need?" Spencer has a hard time stepping any closer, even though Brendon is clearly in pain and could use his help. In some way. It's just... those _teeth_.

"What do you think," Brendon says, although it's more of a hitching whisper. "Not Kool-Aid."

That's not supposed to be that funny. Spencer laughs anyway, and feels terrible doing it, like he's laughing at Brendon's pain, but he can't make himself stop it. Then he thinks about what he could do, to help Brendon, and he stops laughing, with a hiccup that's almost painful. He suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

Spencer's never even donated blood. He doesn't like those needles, going into his skin, going underneath it.

"Do you..." Spencer clears his throat. "Do you want me to..." It's hard to say it. If he does, he'll definitely have to. And fuck, what if Brendon can't control himself, what then?

"You don't have to," Brendon says quickly, but Spencer can almost feel the intensity of his gaze now, the weight of how he looks at Spencer.

Spencer puts his hands together and squeezes the fingers of one hand. He tries not to notice that his hands are trembling. He kind of really doesn't want to, but he takes a step closer to the bed again. Brendon pays close attention to his movements.

"Does it hurt a lot?" he asks. He knows that's wimpy, but he can't help it. He needs to know.

"I'm not really sure," Brendon says. He sounds weak, like all the power has been drained out of his voice. "I don't, uh, really remember much of when it happened to me, and after... There was one... person, and I know he was alive after, when I was done. When I'd taken what I needed. I mean he was walking, no problem. But it was hard to pay attention to anything else during. It's kind of hazy, you know?"

"Mm." Spencer doesn't know, no. And 'alive and walking' doesn't really say anything about pain. Brendon looks hopeful, and Spencer tries to make himself walk closer, sit down on the bed again and offer Brendon his wrist, or his throat. The image that's at the forefront of his mind is a National Geographic zebra getting its throat torn out by a lion. He laughs at himself, except what comes out of his mouth sounds thin and nervous.

Brendon is probably salivating, looking at him.

"Where did you put that stun gun you got?" Brendon asks him, and Spencer is jolted out of his thoughts.

"What, the stun gun?" Spencer tries to think of where he last saw it. "It's in my bedroom, I think. Why?"

Brendon's body spasms in on itself again, and Spencer makes a grimace of sympathy. It takes a few moments until Brendon can talk after that. "If you want," he says. "You could get it, and if you want to... you know, feed me a little, you could hold it, and if it gets to be too much, you could use it."

Oh.

That actually sounds like a good idea. It's not like the stun gun would _really_ hurt Brendon — they've tried it before, after all. Except... "Are you stronger? It seems like maybe you're a bit stronger. You sure you're not, like, immune to stun guns now?"

"I'm pretty sure not," Brendon says. "I haven't noticed any difference in strength."

"I have," Spencer says. He looks at his own arm where Brendon grabbed him earlier and pokes at the sore spot, already discolored. "A little."

"You should go get it now," Brendon says. "If you want."

Brendon looks pretty bad. Worse than Spencer has ever seen him. He looks like he might be dead in another day if nothing changes. He also looks impatient, but he's obviously trying not to push too much. There's no real reason for Spencer to stall. He can help Brendon, so Brendon doesn't die of hunger. Brendon even has a way for Spencer to be safe while doing it.

Spencer goes.

Actually, holding the stun gun makes Spencer feel much better. He doesn't feel so much like a lonely grass eater on the savanna anymore. He can defend himself, if he needs to.

Spencer tests the stun gun, pressing the button. It obediently makes its crackly buzzing noise, and Spencer's hand tingles from the vibration of the electricity. He goes back to Brendon's bedroom.

Brendon has moved while Spencer was gone, propping himself up against the headboard of his bed. He looks exhausted, but the closer Spencer gets to the bed, the more tension he can see in Brendon's body.

 _It'll only hurt for a bit_ , Spencer tells himself firmly. _I can stop him when I want. It won't be too much._ He sits down on the bed, keeping the stun gun in the hand furthest from Brendon.

Brendon draws several short, hitching breaths, his hand reaching for Spencer but not touching him. Spencer feels a curious sense of inevitability settle, along with the prickle and sweat of rising fear.

"Now, okay?" Brendon asks.

"Okay," Spencer echoes.

Brendon snatches Spencer's arm with both hands, pulling Spencer to him so quickly that Spencer almost loses his grip on the stun gun. Brendon bites into Spencer's wrist with no more warning and then Spencer _does_ lose his grip on the stun gun, dropping it on the bed.

It hurts.

Brendon's teeth are sharp, but that doesn't help Spencer process the pain of the bite any easier. He knew it would hurt, but he hadn't been prepared for the intensity of the feeling. Spencer knows he's making noise from it, but he can't spare any thought for doing something about that. Pain is radiating sharply from his wrist, and it becomes even worse when Brendon starts sucking; this incredible pull that seems like it reaches through Spencer's whole arm and up into his chest with icy hot needles.

He scrambles for the stun gun with his free hand, because Brendon is holding him tightly enough that Spencer doesn't think he can pull himself free, but the second his fingers close around the stun gun, the intensity of the pulling pain drops dramatically.

It's... bearable. With the pain level down so much, he can suddenly feel himself panting, his throat hoarse like he's run a mile at top speed. Brendon's holding on to Spencer's arm with both hands like he's afraid someone will come along and take his prize from him. His eyes are closed, but the expression on his face is one of pleasure and enjoyment as he sucks. It's disturbing enough to look at that Spencer turns his head away, staring blankly at Brendon's bookcase instead.

The pulling is still there. Spencer can feel it deep into his chest every time Brendon sucks, but it's not needles anymore — more like Brendon has a grip on all the blood vessels in Spencer's body and is tugging on them in time with his swallowing, creating tension through and around them. It's a kind of tension Spencer can do nothing about. He tries to relax, but it doesn't seem possible.

He waits, wondering how much blood Brendon needs not to die. Surely it must be enough by now? He doesn't know how much Brendon gets with each swallow, but it seems like _a lot_ , and Brendon has swallowed...

Spencer doesn't know how many times Brendon has swallowed.

He was distracted, by the pain, and now he doesn't know how much blood Brendon has taken from him. It could be too much. Spencer feels lightheaded. The pulling sensation, which is not so much pain now, only alien and _there_ , continues and continues, and Spencer is gradually becoming completely sure that Brendon will keep sucking all the blood from his body, until Spencer doesn't have any left and Brendon is finally sated.

He lifts the stun gun, almost without thinking, and shoves it against Brendon's ribs. He pushes the button.

Brendon let's go and rolls over with a pained shout. Spencer winds up on the floor, clutching his arm to his chest. It throbs.

"Fuck," Brendon groans. "Fuck, ow, fuck."

"I'm sorry," Spencer says automatically. He both means it and doesn't. Mostly not, when he looks at his arm. The bloody puncture wounds seem huge, and the skin around them is red and irritated. Blood trickles in a steady stream along his arm and then drips from his elbow down onto the floor. He can't stop looking at it.

"Wait, you're bleeding," Brendon says, and Spencer almost laughs again because, uh, yeah. "Wait, let me," Brendon continues and reaches down from the bed.

Spencer twists himself away, protecting his wrist. He's shaking, and the blood drips on his clothes and smears under his thigh. It's seeping uncomfortably through his pants.

"Spencer... Spencer, I can fix that," Brendon says. "I'm pretty sure, anyway," he amends. "I can stop the bleeding."

"With your teeth, yeah, I don't think so," Spencer says, keeping an eye on Brendon so he doesn't come any closer. He wonders if he should try and get up so he can get out of the room, but he doesn't know how fast Brendon can move.

Brendon sits up. He doesn't look bad at all anymore. Some of Spencer's blood is on Brendon's hand, and Brendon licks it off. "Seriously," Brendon says, swallowing — swallowing Spencer's blood — "let me take care of that. Look, I don't need any more. I'm good now. I can stop the bleeding for you."

Spencer takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. He blinks his eyes, hard. "We're done? No more?"

"All done," Brendon reassures him. "Now please. Let me stop the bleeding."

Spencer doesn't want to, but there's a puddle starting on the floor, which he can't stop staring at. He should do something about that, but for some reason, the only two options seem to be sit and stare, or let Brendon help.

It's just Brendon, he tells himself. Stop being stupid.

He nods, once.

Brendon slides down onto the floor, reaching carefully for his arm. It's so much like just before Brendon bit him that Spencer has to look long and hard into Brendon's face, seeing the way Brendon doesn't have that _want_ seeping out from all over him anymore, before he holds his arm out. It's trembling, and suddenly Spencer feels so tired, like all his muscles have stopped being able to support him fully.

Maybe he's not dying after all.

Brendon bites his own lip and then gently dabs his own blood over Spencer's wounds with his fingers, frowning and sucking on his torn lip as he does it. Spencer just a little too tired to do more than wonder for a moment whether this will make him a vampire too, Brendon's blood in Spencer's.

Brendon's blood burns a little, but not like peroxide. It warms him, crawling into his arm and soothing the pain away until all that's left are small twinges that he's not sure are real at all. The skin has closed up when Brendon rubs over his wrist with his thumb, not so gentle anymore, licking his fingers and cleaning the stains up like the weirdest-looking mom ever.

"I'm not going to die, right?" Spencer says without really meaning to.

Brendon chuckles abruptly. It doesn't sound like he's amused. "No. And you could have told me to stop before using the stun gun. I would have heard you."

"I'm sorry," Spencer says again, leaning against the bed and closing his eyes. If Brendon can control himself and Spencer is not in danger of dying, he doesn't care about anything else.

He'd like to sleep now.

 

***

 

Spencer wakes up a little groggy, and not particularly hungry. His mouth is dry, though, and when he gets up to go to the kitchen for water, he feels a little shaky and weak.

He can hear Brendon going into the bathroom, the water running, and he wonders why Brendon's not nocturnal. And doesn't seem to be bothered by the sun.

This is weird.

Spencer takes his water and his phone and goes back into his room. He gets back into bed and drinks some of the water. It's lukewarm, and tastes heavenly.

He calls Pete.

"I have a hypothetical question," he says.

"You're lucky I have Bronx, or I'd say it's too early for hypothetical questions," Pete says. "But now I've been up since five, so I'll take it. Unless it's about your best friend suspecting he has herpes."

"Uh, no," Spencer says, his mind running fast, because what if Pete somehow sees it's a hypothetical question which is not actually hypothetical? "It's... I'm getting more involved in lyrics writing, and I'm just asking a bunch of people to get more input."

"Oh, okay," Pete says. He sounds pleasantly surprised. "It's great that you're writing more lyrics! So what's the question?"

"What would you do if your best friend became a vampire?"

Pete laughs. "Really? You're writing something about vampires? Wow, yeah, okay."

Spencer draws a breath of relief. "Yeah, I mean, everyone else is doing it, so I thought we could put our own spin on it."

Feeding Brendon his blood doesn't seem quite real anymore. Spencer tries to recall the feeling, but all he gets besides remembering it hurt is a flash of Brendon's face, eyes closed in bliss, teeth buried in Spencer's wrist. Spencer brushes his fingers over the skin where the bite was, but there's nothing special, nothing that proves it happened.

"So, yeah...," Pete says. "I'm used to answering this question the other way around, obviously, but okay, hmm... I'd either help him arrange his own death, I guess. Because he's going to live forever, and he'd need to cut some ties. Or... I could run away into the night with him, go on the eternal road trip. If he'd turn me too, we could be night time terrors together? It all depends on whether he'd be evil after becoming a vampire, of course."

"Mm, I think not," Spencer says. He thinks about how Brendon's acted. It's weird, sure, but not _unethical_. And since Spencer knows now, things are going to be better. "I'm pretty sure he's got the same ethics as before."

"So, in your lyrics, is he gonna be emotionally tortured? Taking life to stay alive?" Pete muses.

"Vampires don't have to kill to survive." Spencer sips his water. "That's definitely a key idea."

"Oh, so is it gonna be geared toward _Twilight_ readers? Sexy biting and anemic pining and shit?"

"I don't know." Pete is making his fake lyrics sound kind of stupid, but Spencer's not sure how to protest without giving himself away. It's hard to keep putting the lyrics excuse filter over his thinking. But he doubts Brendon would want him to go around telling people, especially without Brendon's permission.

"So who else are you asking?" Pete says.

"Uh..." Spencer grasps for anyone he knows that might have thoughts about vampires. "It's not like I know Gerard Way well enough..." he says.

"Dude, I have his email!" Pete says happily. Spencer can hear sudden high pitched squealing in the background. Pete raises his voice. "You could poll him or some shit. He'd probably be happy to help!"

"Oh, okay," Spencer says. He doesn't really want to get stuck having to email Gerard Way, but he doesn't think Pete actually talks to Gerard a lot, so he can probably get away with just not doing it.

"I think I have to go. Bronx is chasing Hemmy — got to make sure he doesn't hit him with that hanger."

"Yeah, sure, talk to you later!" Spencer says.

Pete hangs up, cutting another excited shriek off in the middle. He might forget to mail Spencer Gerard's email address, but it's not likely.

Spencer goes to refill his glass with the last of what's left in the water bottle.

Brendon comes into the kitchen in boxers and a t-shirt, his hair wet, carrying a pile of dirty clothes. Spencer watches him carefully. Brendon's still pale, but not that horrible off-white that had looked like something he'd pick as a color for the dining room wall. He looks remarkably alive for someone who isn't anymore.

"Why do you breathe?" Spencer asks.

Brendon stops in his tracks, his bare feet not quite skidding on the tiled floor. It would be a comical effect, but the stricken look on Brendon's face keeps Spencer from laughing at him.

Brendon unfreezes and puts the clothes he was carrying in the hamper by the door to the laundry room. He watches Spencer while he does it, like he's not sure what Spencer is after. "I thought you were still in bed," he says.

Spencer leans against the kitchen table, worrying the hem of his nappy old robe. It's unwearable, his mom told him so when she visited, but he likes it. He's had it since he was fifteen, so it's a little tight and short, but that's no reason to throw a good piece of clothing away. "Breathing," Spencer clarifies. "Aren't you... dead or something? Why do you breathe?"

Maybe Spencer shouldn't have said that. The words don't taste right in his mouth.

Brendon makes a grimace. "At least I'm not a zombie," he says, and that has Spencer thinking about Brendon with rotten, discolored flesh hanging off of him, empty eyes staring.

"You wouldn't make a good zombie," he says. He doesn't really want that image in his head. Although Ryan probably would, if Brendon decides to tell him. Ryan always adored zombie movies. "So. Breathing?"

Brendon shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe habit?" He falls silent, clearly holding his breath.

Spencer watches, frowning as time passes and Brendon shows no sign of distress. Finally Brendon draws in a breath. "Okay, that's weird," he says. "It's like, I don't have to breathe, but it feels wrong not to?" He comes around the table next to Spencer and sits on it, drawing his feet up as well.

Spencer thinks, leaning his shoulder a little toward Brendon. "Maybe it's good that you breathe," he suggests after emptying his glass of water. "People would think it was weird if you didn't."

Brendon snorts.

It feels weirdly natural sitting here like this, considering what happened last night. Spencer isn't even scared, even though he knows he was last night. Brendon doesn't give out any extra dangerous vibes or anything. In fact, looking at him now, Spencer could easily pretend Brendon is just the same as he was last week. A little tired and pale, but full to the brim of personality and purpose. Not a monster. Although maybe Spencer should be rethinking his terminology. 'Vampire' and 'monster' don't have to go together.

When it comes down to it, Spencer feels pleased with himself. He saved Brendon from death by starvation, and he's not even sick from the blood loss. Not that he'd like to do it again any time soon.

Spencer lifts his hand and tucks the tips of his fingers into the hollow of Brendon's throat, measuring the finger widths from there to where he would be able to feel Brendon's heartbeat. Brendon stays still for him, lets Spencer press his fingers against the silent pulse point there until he's sure he won't find anything. Brendon's skin shows no sign of him being any different than before. A little paler maybe, but the same small irregularities, the same soft smoothness in the hollow under his ear. He always liked looking at Brendon's neck, his throat. He wonders if Brendon will never change now, will always look like this.

Brendon turns his head and Spencer lets his hand drop, inexplicably embarrassed all of a sudden.

"Are you, uh... hungry?" he asks, because that feels like something he should keep in mind.

Brendon shakes his head, something solemn in his eyes. "I don't think I have to eat very often," he says. "Less the more time passes."

"You don't have memory loss, do you," Spencer says. He wants more water, or maybe orange juice, but he wants to know what happened when Brendon was missing more.

"Not exactly," Brendon says, looking uncomfortable. "Have you eaten? You should probably eat. Or do we have anything in the house that's not moldy?"

"I want to know what happened," Spencer says, gripping his empty water glass with his fingers. He watches the way his skin turns white around the edges when he squeezes the glass harder.

Brendon gets down off the table. Spencer feels colder without Brendon's body close to him, but that's probably just his imagination, since Brendon isn't warm-blooded anymore.

"I should get the laundry started," Brendon says and quickly disappears into the laundry room with the hamper.

Spencer stares in bemusement at the slice of warm light under the door. He can hear the metallic click of Brendon opening the washing machine lid, and then some low humming.

 

***

 

A couple of days go by, and Brendon doesn't act the least bit strange. He has some trouble sleeping — Spencer joins him for Xbox tournaments that last until 4 a.m. — but that's normal, coming off tour. Brendon rarely gets dressed, plays a lot with the dogs when they get them back from the kennel, and snaps at Spencer when Spencer asks him not to leave unpacking off for too long. It's all normal for Brendon.

He just won't talk about what happened.

Spencer is waiting for Brendon to tell him he's hungry again. He's not looking forward to it, no, but he assumes this has to be kept some kind of secret, and the less people in on it the better. He still doesn't know why Brendon tried to feed on that girl (yes, Spencer can be slow sometimes, but he's figured that one out in hindsight). Wouldn't she have talked to other people? The police even, although after this whole experience Spencer is reasonably sure the police would ignore any reports of vampires, unless bloody victims were shoved in their faces.

"Have you met any other... vampires?" Spencer asks. Possibly, Brendon knows a whole bunch of vampires. Spencer doesn't even know if Brendon _wanted_ to be a vampire. Maybe he did — maybe that's why he won't say anything, because he's now part of a vampire cult that swore him to silence. It sounds ridiculous to Spencer, but so does saying, 'Brendon is a vampire,' and _that_ is actual truth.

"Only the one," Brendon says from the couch.

Spencer waits, but Brendon doesn't say any more. Spencer sits on the couch too. The sun is shining a bit too brightly and he thinks about drawing the blinds, but there's a gap in the blinds that's big enough to be irritating — Spencer doesn't know how it got broken that way — and besides, if Spencer draws the blinds, Brendon might think there's something extra special about this conversation, which there's not.

"I just think," Spencer starts, then stops himself. Then he changes his mind. "Are you going to be okay with this? You're not talking about it."

Brendon lifts his eyebrows. "You don't have to talk about everything to be okay. And okay with what? Needing blood and looking forward to getting stopped in airport security every fucking time from now on?"

"I was thinking more the blood thing," Spencer says. "Do you know everything you need to know, for example? Is there an ancient book on being a vampire you need to get or something?"

Brendon pulls his knees up. "How should I know," he says.

"You're the one that got..." Spencer waves his hand with two of his fingers curled.

Brendon laughs. "Yeah! Gabe totally did it!" He makes the Cobra sign, with both hands. "Fangs up!" Then he grins, showing his own fangs.

Spencer's mouth twitches. "Seriously," he says, even though it's nice to see Brendon laugh.

Brendon looks at him. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Brendon sighs. "No, I don't think I know everything I could, but... I don't have anyone to ask. You wanna know what I know? It's not a lot." He sits up and folds his legs underneath him, elbows resting on his knees. "The sunlight thing is obviously a load of crap." Brendon waves toward the window with its sunlight streaming down on his uncovered arm. "People don't generally seem to see anything odd with my teeth, but it looks like machinery will pick it up. I don't think I should do any X-rays I don't have to."

Spencer nods. So that was what went wrong at the airport.

"Food... I haven't been able to make myself try eating food. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick. I can drink, though, but it doesn't taste good. Something like strong tea."

"You've never liked tea," Spencer says.

Brendon makes a grimace. "I know, I know — but I don't know what to say it tastes like now. The only thing that tastes good anymore is blood. I need to drink blood, obviously. I only need it every few days, as far as I understand, and that'll slow down until it's once a week or less. I'm not really sure on that point, but it seems likely."

"Wait, how do you know how often you'll need blood? Because you can't still be saying you have amnesia and expect me to believe it."

Brendon sighs and rubs his face. "Okay," he says. "Okay, I'll tell you, but... seriously, you can't tell anyone." He leans back against the cushioned armrest.

Spencer nods, leaning forward.

"Because he said I could get into something pretty serious if I do, like, lethally serious."

"I won't tell anyone," Spencer promises, a little taken aback. That makes some things make sense. If Brendon's afraid for his life, it's not so strange that he'd be hiding things, even from Spencer.

"So," Brendon says. "After that show."

"Yeah?" Spencer says.

"Okay, so when I got back to the bus... There was this guy in there, said the driver let him in. At first I thought he was a fan, because he came right at me, you know? I thought he was trying for a hug. But then he didn't stop, and he just pushed me right off the bus. He got me out of there so quickly."

"You didn't yell?" Spencer asks, because Zack has told them that so many times. If he doesn't see, or if he's not around, and they need somebody.

"Of course I did," Brendon says. "But there was no one there. It's like he'd made sure or something. Anyway. He got me to this apartment, and I was scared to death." He laughs nervously. "Like, I thought I'd be kept in a basement for a year and then killed, scared."

"Fuck," Spencer whispers. "I was in the shower. Fuck."

"But then, get this," Brendon says, "he says he's with the FBI."

Spencer stares. "What?"

Brendon nods. "Yeah, he showed me his badge, and everything, said his name was Agent Rucksted. Told me all about how there'd been a plot to kill me, all this stuff."

"Not for real, right?"

Brendon quirks his lips. "I'm pretty sure not, no. But he was convincing, at the time. Even talked into a phone, like he was talking to other agents. I asked about you and the others, but he said his team was on that."

"What the fuck?"

"He got me filling out forms and things. It seemed fine. I was still a little upset about how he approached me, but. It's apparently how he gets people so he can feed on them."

"And then he bit you, just like that?" Spencer asks, outraged.

Brendon scratches his neck. "Uh, not exactly," he says. "This is the embarrassing part."

"What could be more embarrassing than a fake FBI agent?"

"He just..." Brendon starts. He takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. "Okay. He starts sitting really close. And I notice, this guy is pretty hot. And I'm not feeling too good, but all of a sudden, I'm like, wow this guy is hot."

Spencer narrows his eyebrows. "Right," he says.

Brendon makes a grimace. "I told you, embarrassing!" he says.

Spencer's not sure what to think about this. He doesn't generally like to think about Brendon with guys Brendon finds hot. "So because he was hot, you suddenly wanted to fuck him? And let him bite you?"

"That's the thing," Brendon says, "I don't think he _was_ that hot. I mean, he was pretty hot, but I was feeling crappy after the show, you know, all I wanted was to sleep. And I don't generally sleep with people just because they're there."

"Mm," Spencer agrees. He wishes Brendon had gotten to the bus without problems.

"And then," Brendon continues, "I have no idea, but yeah, we were getting into it, he bit me, I was like wait, what the fuck, and then there's some time missing."

"Yeah?"

"He said he was really sorry," Brendon says. "That he didn't mean to kill me."

Spencer makes a noise in distress.

"Except I'm not really dead," Brendon hurries to explain. "But the thing is, he was going to get me back to the bus, but then he had to turn me, so obviously I couldn't go back right away."

"Why the fuck not?" Spencer demands. "I was worried sick! We all were."

"He had to tell me some things. And get me something to eat."

"Some _one_ to eat, you mean," Spencer mutters.

"Well. Yes. But apparently, there are some laws," Brendon says. "Like for example, it's supposed to be this _Fight Club_ thing. And if you tell and they hear about it, they'll come kill you."

"Jesus," Spencer says. "Yeah, no, I get that." That must be a pretty effective way of keeping secrets, but Spencer can't say he approves. "So I'm guessing you're going to have to be pretty selective about who knows."

"Yeah, I was trying for zero, but I guess that just wasn't going to hold," Brendon says glumly.

"Uh, no," Spencer agrees. "But then you still didn't tell me anything." That still smarts. "I mean, after I... fed you."

"Yeah," Brendon says. "I know. It's just..." He looks away, to the window. "I know I hurt you pretty badly. I felt bad about it."

Spencer freezes, his palms prickling. He's managed not to think too closely about that, but Brendon mentioning it gives him a few echos of the pain involved. And something else, some of that strange, tense feeling.

"So I figure, if you want, I can probably find someone to experiment on with that. I know it's not supposed to hurt that badly, I probably fucked up."

"Oh," Spencer says. He doesn't really know what to do with that information. But at least he has the answer to some questions. Brendon keeps looking at the window.

Then what Brendon said catches up with him.

"No!" he says.

Brendon looks at him, clearly confused.

"Don't find anyone else," Spencer says. As he says it, he realizes that's kind of an incredibly stupid thing to say, if he doesn't want to repeat the painful experience of feeding Brendon, but then... It doesn't seem that bad anymore, looking back. Sure, it hurt, and he was scared, but now he knows Brendon won't kill him. Also, the thought of anyone else being that to Brendon, anyone that's not Spencer providing Brendon with what he needs to live, seems unbearable.

"I thought," Brendon says, "I mean, I hurt you!"

"It wasn't that bad," Spencer says. He still occupied thinking about that last emotion — feeling like he has to be the only one that close to Brendon. He's never _really_ had a problem sharing before — even years ago, he'd been jealous of the people Brendon had slept with, but had never felt the sharp sense of betrayal welling up inside him now.

Brendon looks doubtful. "If you say so," he says. He shifts on the couch, putting his feet back on the floor. "So. You definitely want to do this then?"

"Now? Sure," Spencer says, even though his heart is beating faster.

"Not yet," Brendon says. "But maybe tomorrow night? I think that'll be soon enough."

It's suddenly a little easier to breathe.

 

***

 

Spencer spends the whole of the following day doing unnecessary things like planning how he would repaint the wall of the dining room they never use, because they never have people over for _dinner_ , only friends who come over and drink beer and eat takeout from boxes on the couch and floor in the living room. If Spencer did repaint, maybe it would give them incentive to actually learn how to cook.

Other things he does over the course of the day include: clicking his way through approximately one thousand collections of Pictures Of Weird Things On The Internet (one was a collection of pictures of gangrenous spider bites, and he wishes he hadn't clicked on that one), playing Angry Birds until his hand hurts, and calling his mom (his mom complains that he hasn't planned to come see her this break, and Spencer promises her that he'll ask Zack to book him a flight later in the month, before they go out again). He also links some of the more disturbing pictures of rotting flesh in an email to Ryan.

He wonders if Ryan knows there really are vampires. It seems odd now that Ryan would joke about it, in that last phone call. He wonders if he should add another joke about vampires to his links, to hint to Ryan in case he knows, but decides against it. He very much doesn't want to be the reason Brendon gets hunted down and killed.

Brendon keeps himself conspicuously occupied out of the house and doesn't come home until fourteen minutes past five. Spencer knows this because he's been checking the time on his laptop about every minute, wondering whether Brendon has decided not to come home at all.

Still, Brendon shuts the door like usual, and throws his keys into the wicker basket on the counter. It makes a sharp jangling sound, and the force of the throw pushes the bowl across the surface of the counter top, but not quite over the edge, just like usual. Spencer will put the bowl back in its place, later.

"You have dinner yet?" Brendon asks.

"I had a sandwich," Spencer says. "Don't think I'll faint on you." He closes his laptop, pushes it to the side and stands up. He wipes his hands on his pants. "Okay then," he says. It'll be fine. He's done it once, he can do it again. And it will be easier, because he knows what it's like.

"We can, can we do this on the couch?" Brendon asks.

"Sure, no problem, couch is fine," Spencer replies. It doesn't really matter to him, as long as it's not out in the street.

"Okay. Okay, good."

Brendon seems nervous. Spencer sits on the couch in the living room and Brendon draws the blinds, even though the window doesn't face the street or anything — just the stretch of garden and the palm trees planted in a row right before the fence that lines the driveway, curling around the house. The gap in the blinds doesn't seem as obvious now in the evening, with no direct sunlight.

Brendon comes and stands in front of Spencer. Spencer thinks back on when he thought vampires dressed in black and had blood red lips. Brendon's yellow shorts that he likes to wear at home don't exactly look like vampire couture according to those standards. Brendon still looks good, though. He always looks good.

Brendon scratches his neck. "So," he says. "Since I hurt you last time. I have an idea for this, to make it better."

"Yeah?" Spencer says. That would be good, for it not to hurt as much. Maybe if Brendon's idea works, Spencer could even learn to get used to it.

"It's kind of what happened to me, and that... didn't really hurt." Brendon looks at Spencer, then away.

"Not like... You don't mean you're going to make me into a vampire, do you?" Spencer is suddenly alarmed, because that's really not in his plans. Brendon doesn't seem to be having a great time with it, and Spencer has a feeling it would be doubly complicated if both of them had to drink blood. Plus, he'd have to keep even more secrets.

"No, no," Brendon says, waving his hand. "I mean, it's... Okay. I'm just going to say it." He rolls back and forward again on his heels. "If we have sex while I do it, it won't hurt as much."

"What?"

Brendon looks flustered. "Of course we don't have to, if you don't want. It would just make it easier. And I got the impression that maybe you wouldn't mind? Oh god, that sounds stupid. I mean, _I_ wouldn't mind. At all."

Really? There's nothing in Spencer's mind but this one thing, and it doesn't fit. It doesn't make any sense. Brendon wants... Spencer? Really?

"Wait," Spencer says. He can feel his face flushing. "Just, what? You never..."

"I thought about this all day," Brendon says, "and I know, maybe it's not what you really want and it's weird for you, but... I thought I'd give you the option. In case you were okay with it. Because you don't have to."

Spencer feels like there's something he's not getting. On the one hand, Brendon is offering him sex, which, even if it's just because he's trying to make the biting less painful, seems pretty good — at least to his body, which has apparently never given up the hope that Brendon might some day be interested.

But on the other hand, Spencer can endure pain for Brendon, but he's not sure that he can have sex with him and have everything be just normal again after that, if that's what Brendon means.

Or normal-ish. It's not like it's especially normal that Brendon is a vampire.

"Did you mean," Spencer begins even though he feels stupid. "Is this just because you feel bad? Or because you want to make sure I get something out of it, or what?"

Brendon begins to speak, but Spencer thinks of something else. "Or is this because you're a vampire now, and I'm your food source, and you need to keep me happy?"

Because that might be the worst alternative. He feels bad for even accusing Brendon of that, but if that's what it is, then Spencer would rather take the pain. And maybe not like Brendon as much anymore.

Brendon looks at him silently for a moment. Then he sits down on the couch, leaving a foot of space between them. "I'm not a bad person just because I'm a vampire now," he says quietly. "And it's not _just_ because I want to make it better. I mean, it was _incredible_ to drink your blood, but I just think it could be so much better." He locks his hands around one of his knees but keeps tapping his foot on the floor. "You know I... When we were teenagers. God, Spence, I was so obvious, but Ryan..." Brendon pauses for a deep breath while Spencer is reeling. "And now, we're so. We're. I just... I don't know if it's love, or what, but I'm interested. I'm..." Brendon looks up at Spencer, his gaze clear and direct. "I'm definitely interested. And, like I said... I get the feeling you might be, too. So do you want to?"

Spencer feels something warm take root inside him. This is not what he was expecting at all. But there's no question now of what he'll say. "I want to. Especially if you think it'll help, but even if it doesn't, I really want you."

"Good," Brendon says. "That's... So, can I...?"

Brendon seems to give up on talking and darts in close, and at first Spencer thinks he's going to bite him right away and flinches a little, but Brendon kisses him instead, soft and lingering. It's a different kind of shock than Spencer was bracing himself for, but the adrenaline still makes him feel it in his fingertips and the back of his head and he makes a small noise back in his throat as he tilts his head and his body to get closer, make it even better.

He puts his hand on Brendon's shoulder, leaning forward with his knee twisted up between them. Brendon pushes one side of Spencer's shirt to the side and drags his fingers over the side of Spencer's neck. Spencer wonders if Brendon can feel his pulse, if that turns him on now, but then Brendon licks over Spencer's lips and Spencer opens, unable to think or feel anything but the sensation of Brendon's tongue against his own.

They kiss for a long time, until Spencer tries to get into a more comfortable position. His knee gets in the way and he half falls onto Brendon, his mouth bumping painfully against Brendon's. It stings, and then Brendon makes it sting more, sucking hard on Spencer's lip.

Spencer pushes Brendon away, but only a few inches. There's a trace of red on Brendon's lower lip, and he's staring at Spencer's mouth.

"I cut myself," Spencer says. His lip smarts, but not too badly. Mostly it feels swollen and sensitive.

Brendon licks his lip. "Yeah, on me," he says, half smiling.

Spencer waits for another moment, considering, but either Brendon isn't hungry enough to want more instantly, or it really is as Brendon told him after last time; the craving won't be bad enough that he'll lose control.

Spencer kisses Brendon again, and Brendon runs his tongue over the cut gently. It feels good, like a tease of something more intense, and Spencer closes his eyes to feel it better. He strokes his tongue against Brendon's, tasting his own blood faintly. It's not as off-putting as he would have thought.

Brendon pushes at Spencer's pants, trying but failing to push them down over his hips. "Off, off," he mumbles into Spencer's mouth.

Spencer thinks of how much better it would be if they were naked and quickly agrees. "Take yours off," he says and reaches down to unbutton himself.

By the time Spencer has his pants off and is working on his shirt, Brendon is completely naked. He watches Spencer undress, and Spencer meets his gaze until pulling his shirt over his head cuts it off. Spencer throws his shirt on the floor, and when he turns back, Brendon is lying down against the armrest, his knee drawn up and one foot on the floor. One of his hands moves restlessly along his thigh, curling around his half-hard cock. It's hard to look away from.

"Come here," Brendon says, holding his other hand out.

Spencer shuffles forward on his knees between Brendon's thighs, and Brendon grabs his arm and pulls, making Spencer lose his balance. He falls on top of Brendon, barely able to stop himself from planting his palm in Brendon's face.

"Oof," Brendon says, but his arms wrap around Spencer's middle, denying any protest.

"Very smooth," Spencer comments, but he's distracted by the way all their skin is touching. It's been more than a year since Spencer has been in this position, and this, this is Brendon, which makes it better than it would have been with anyone else.

Brendon tilts his head and kisses Spencer's neck, under his ear, and Spencer buries his face into Brendon's hair. Brendon smells good, and when Spencer bites the side of Brendon's neck, Brendon tenses and pushes up against him, moaning.

"Wait, wait," Brendon says breathlessly, and Spencer realizes that Brendon is fully hard under him, just from that. That is kind of neat.

Spencer is getting there himself, rocking into the crease of Brendon's thigh. He's starting to think that this is the best idea Brendon has ever had. He bites Brendon again, digging his teeth into the muscle, and Brendon groans, grabbing onto Spencer's ass and pushing up.

Spencer grinds back. He could probably come like this given enough time. He puts his hand in Brendon's hair and uses it to pull himself back to kissing Brendon. Kissing, with that little edge of ache from the cut on his lip, feels incredible, and Spencer pushes more, grinding his mouth against Brendon's to get more of it.

One of Brendon's fangs catches on Spencer's lip again, tearing another cut open with a bright rush of pain. Brendon finds the source of the new blood immediately, pushing his tongue and lips against the wound. It hurts, but Spencer can't help pushing into it, riding the new pain as it seems to be connected to his cock. The more he pushes, the better it feels.

"You should, you can do it now," Spencer says, making himself pull back for a moment. He could do this until he comes, but then he'd have come and Brendon still needs more, deeper. "Here, do it here," Spencer says and turns his head, offering Brendon his throat.

"Wait." Brendon pushes Spencer's hand down to where they're both hard and slick, helping him to line them both up so that Spencer can close his hand around both their cocks. Then he puts his hand on Spencer's neck, holding him still as he licks and sucks over Spencer's skin, not biting yet.

"Please," Spencer groans, arching his neck as much as he can in Brendon's grip, because holding both of them tightly in his hand feels so, so good. He knows he'll come in less than a minute if Brendon doesn't get a move on.

Brendon bites, slow but unrelenting, and Spencer cries out. It's a bigger shock of pain than the tear on his lip, but the connection to pleasure is still there. He reflexively squeezes harder around their cocks, but stops moving.

Then Brendon starts sucking, and the tension, that alien pulling on the inside of every part of his body that Spencer had thought felt so disconcerting last time... It's directly connected to his building orgasm.

Spencer gasps, feeling like he has no air, and pulls furiously on their cocks. He tries to press closer, because he can't get enough of the feeling of Brendon so close, both pushing against him in his hand and buried _inside_ him, but Brendon's hand on his neck holds him still.

The rhythmic tension from Brendon's sucking combined with the spreading tingling from Spencer's approaching orgasm has Spencer feeling completely spread open, pulled apart, like Brendon is somehow _making_ him have this orgasm, even though it's Spencer's hand around their cocks.

Brendon comes before he does, his hand clenching around the back of Spencer's neck as he shakes and groans. Brendon sucks hard, swallowing more of Spencer's blood, and it feels like something more than that is pulled out of Spencer, like it would be impossible to do anything other than come. So he does, jerking himself hard, and there is nothing but the slick slide so perfect with both Brendon's come and his own and it feels like his entire body is pushing out through his cock and there will be nothing left but inside-out raw flesh when he's done.

When he's done, Brendon has twisted his too-sensitive cock out of Spencer's hand, but is still sucking on Spencer's throat. It's too intense, feeling worse by the second.

"Too much," Spencer manages. "Stop it." His voice is hoarse, and his lips are starting to throb painfully.

He tries to dig his knees into the couch, get his hands into position to push away from Brendon, but just like that, Brendon stops it. He lets Spencer up and Spencer balances with his hands on Brendon's chest, suddenly dizzy and panting. His blood is dripping down onto Brendon's throat and chin.

Brendon licks his lips, his eyes dazed and dark. He swallows. Then his eyes seem to focus on Spencer.

"You're gonna fall," he says. "Hang on."

He wriggles out from under Spencer and pushes him down, Spencer's arms giving out way too easily. Spencer tries to help, but Brendon does most of the work, turning him over and putting his legs up over the armrest.

"You're amazing," Brendon says. "Don't move."

Brendon does the same thing he did last time, except this time he bites into his own wrist, careful and precise, and lets a few drops fall into the wounds on Spencer's neck. He laps up the small overflow before his wrist heals again, then kisses Spencer carefully, licking his blood gently into the cuts on Spencer's aching lips. Without the build of sex it hurts more, but Spencer tries to relax into it and it fades quickly. Soon there is only a faint aftertaste of blood left.

"What does it taste like, to you?" Spencer asks, curious.

"Good," Brendon says. "Really good — warm... I don't know. Not like anything else I've ever tasted."

He lies down on top of Spencer, and Spencer brings his arms up around him automatically. He feels weak, but Brendon's weight is comforting and solid.

"Huh." Spencer wonders what it would be like, biting into someone like that. He runs his tongue over his own blunt canines.

They're going to have to be very careful, not just about who knows. Spencer will have to look up what kind of food he should be eating, to make sure he doesn't run too low on blood. Playing the drums takes a lot of exertion, and he doesn't want to be fainting on stage — he'd never hear the end of it.

Maybe Brendon can find that guy, the one who bit him, and get some more information. There has to be more to know, ways to make passing as a normal human being easier.

Unless that will just put them at risk.

"Maybe you shouldn't have told me," Spencer says, even though that's the direct opposite of what he wants. "If it's this dangerous. You could have left everything, just gone somewhere new, alone. I could have gotten over you, maybe."

Brendon pushes close, rubbing his cheek against Spencer's shoulder. He looks at Spencer. "But I don't want to be alone," he says. "I would never want to be alone, without you."

Spencer is intensely glad that Brendon did come back. He tightens his arm around him. "I lied," he says. "I could never get over you."

"Yeah, I know," Brendon says and burrows closer.


End file.
